


Weird Little Greasepit - Sophomore Year - March

by appending_fic



Series: Weird Little Greasepit - Sophomore Year [7]
Category: Buddy Thunderstruck (Cartoon), Night In The Woods (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Betrayal, Curses, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, Town with a dark secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appending_fic/pseuds/appending_fic
Summary: It's the Ides of March - time to choose a new student body president!





	Weird Little Greasepit - Sophomore Year - March

Buddy had woken up knowing it was going to be a bad day. He’d been up until one in the morning finishing a biology lab, woken up late, had discovered he had no clean underwear, and missed breakfast because Muncie had gone in early so he’d had to ride the bus in to school.

So he was already in a bad mood when he got to his locker, able to offer Darnell little more than a distracted smile.

“What happened? You look terrible.”

“That is a real blow to my self-esteem, there, Darnell.”

Darnell poked Buddy’s shoulder. “Come on.”

“Biology,” Buddy explained.

Darnell frowned. “Do we have a test today?”

“No, the _lab_.”

“That’s not due until Friday.”

Buddy stepped to the side and began banging his head against the locker next to Darnell’s. He ignored the immediate pain and promise of a headache because everything was stupid. He was abruptly dragged back; he glowered at Darnell, who watched him cautiously with wide, worried eyes.

“Buddy?”

“I am fine. It is just clear getting up this morning was a _terrible_ idea.”

Darnell looked up, past Buddy’s shoulder, and his face twisted a little, confused. Buddy felt a curl of fear in his stomach, along with the feeling he’d forgotten something important.

He turned to discover Principal Moneybags approaching him, flanked by four people - a crocodile, bird, pale-furred dog, and bear - vaguely familiar faces Buddy had seen at school assemblies.

 _Oh no_.

Principal Moneybags stopped before Buddy. He was all but smirking as he held out an envelope, covered in gold and sealed with the crest of Greasepit.

“Buddy Thunderstruck, it is my pleasure to bestow upon you the position of student body president.”

Buddy shook his head, keeping his hands resolutely at his sides. Principal Moneybags rolled his eyes.

“Do you think you’re the first one to try not accepting the honor?” one of Moneybags’ associates, the...junior class president, Buddy thought, asked.

“This is a mere formality, Mr. Thunderstruck. Your fate was sealed the moment the oracle rendered her decision.” Principal Moneybags’ grin widened. “I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Thunderstruck.”

When Buddy didn’t move, unwilling to take the envelope, Principal Moneybags sighed and slipped it into the slots in Buddy’s locker. He then turned on his heel and stalked away, his entourage trailing after him. Buddy waited until Moneybags was gone before kicking his locker as hard as he could, but all that accomplished was making his foot hurt.

“Buddy?”

“Stupid. Lousy. _Ides_. Of. _March_!” Buddy kicked his locker again, but history had proven them made of something like adamantine, practically indestructible.

“Buddy-“

“I have got to go. Talk to Muncie, or - hell, anyone,” Buddy growled, shrugging off Darnell’s hand as he stalked off in the least crowded direction. It took a minute to find an empty room - a practice room, it looked like. Buddy slumped onto the bench of the piano dominating the space and groaned.

This year had been _looking up_. After spending much of his spring semester and summer worrying about when Mae and Gregg were going to get back at him for the Winter Formal, being a welcome but distinct fifth wheel among his friends, he’d gotten a _bro_. And not just anyone - Darnell flipping Fetzervalve, who was smarter than almost anyone in town, brave, handy in a fight, a _pretty good_ guitarist…

Well, Buddy’d lucked out, and now it was _over_.

“Hey, Buddy? Mr. said I should check up on you.”

Buddy growled and waved a hand in Artichoke’s general direction in the hope he’d take the hint and leave.

But instead Artichoke sat heavily next to Buddy; Mr. had probably insisted.

“Heard the news. Sucks big time.”

Artichoke put a hand on Buddy’s shoulder, and Artichoke’s unpracticed sympathy made it _real_ , and Buddy burst into tears.

Artichoke proved adept at comforting small, sobbing mammals, patting Buddy’s back gently while he rode out the tears, because it wasn’t _fair_. He didn’t _deserve_ this.

At long last, his tears stopped, and the two of them sat in quiet for some time.

“Do you think there might be a chance...it does _not_ happen?”

Artichoke sighed. “My mom - Sharon, that is - said there was a president when she was a junior who made it twenty-nine and a half days. And then found out her best friend had been cheating off her calculus tests all year. Had a huge fight during lunch. They decided they couldn’t both be at the reunion.”

“Fart nuggets.”

“Look, not to get your hopes up, but. Like. If there’s anyone who _could_ get out of the presidency with their friendship intact, it’s you and Fetzervalve.”

Buddy felt his spirits raise a _little_. Artichoke was right about feeling too hopeful; student body presidents had been trying for decades to avoid the inevitable betrayal of their closest friends within a month of their inauguration. But Darnell was, like, the _smartest dude ever_. And Buddy _had_ outwitted the Devil. So between the two of them, they might be able to pull this off.

Darnell, when Buddy found him in the library, was less optimistic. He'd spread out forty years' of yearbooks out, with notes attached to each one.

"Well, romantic betrayal's popular. Around half of the old class presidents lost their best friends to that. Like half a dozen had one of those stupid fights that just blew up, like five got blamed for shoplifting, and one dude… _actually_ got stabbed. I'm thinking it might be best for me to dump you right now for your own safety."

"No, _please_." Darnell, halfway through turning a page, paused, giving Buddy a wide-eyed expression, ears flat back. Startled. And Buddy realized there were a lot of things he'd never said to Darnell, things he might not get a chance to if Darnell dropped him to keep from betraying him sometime in the next month. "Darnell, I _love you_. You are the best thing to _ever_ happen to me, and...if all I've got left is...twenty-nine days before you stick a knife in my back-"

"I'm not going to _stab_ you, Buddy-"

"You say that _now_ , but everyone is going to be watching us all month, just waiting to see how it goes down. They probably want another stabbing. Maybe you'll do the _full_ Julius Caesar and team up with all of my other friends and stab me in the cafeteria."

Darnell bolted up, ears alert, tail bushy, held straight out. He grabbed Buddy's shoulders, kissed him on each cheek, and _sprinted_ out of the library. Buddy stared after him for a few moments, hoping what had sent Darnell off wasn't the prospect of stabbing Buddy in the cafeteria.

Buddy didn't see Darnell for the rest of the day, making him worry, briefly, Darnell had settled on the plan that abandoning Buddy now would minimize the amount of pain his inevitable betrayal would cause. Muncie, though, found Buddy after school by his locker, jingling her keys.

"Come on, cousin, we're going driving."

He tried to duck her, but Muncie caught him in a headlock, and despite his struggling, dragged him to the parking lot, and her car.

"Come _on_ ," Buddy protested as Muncie shoved him into the passenger's seat. "You have got to know what happened today. Darnell and I-"

" _You_ need to keep your spirits up. Anyone who knows anything knows nothing, curse or no, is going to turn Darnell against you. So we're going driving. I bet you forgot your birthday's next week."

Buddy had; the impending loss of his best friend had overshadowed his sixteenth birthday - the freedom promised by his driver's license pointless if he didn't have anyone to cruise around town with.

"Well, I'm fixing to make sure you're ready for it when it comes."

Acting under Muncie's direction, Buddy was getting pretty good at driving, although she refused to allow him to do anything cool behind the wheel of her car.

"You wanna wreck a car with some damn-fool stunts, you can do it with one you wasted your own money on."

And despite himself, Buddy was feeling a little less anxious when they returned home. Though when, laying in bed, Buddy scrolled through his phone, the absence of any call or message from Darnell felt conspicuous, a warning of things to come.

Buddy couldn't bring himself to send a message to Darnell himself. The longer he could put off the moment when Darnell turned on him, when his friendship with Darnell was over, the better. So he slept fitfully, waking tired again, finding Muncie gone when he mournfully ate breakfast (a bowl of cereal, dry, because the refrigerator, a loyal friend, had betrayed him as well). But when Buddy stepped outside, resigned to taking the bus, he found Artichoke leaning back against his moms' van. At Buddy's hesitant wave, Artichoke nodded and jerked his head to the passenger's door.

It took a moment to place what was odd when Buddy climbed into the van. "Where's Mr.?"

"Doing other shit. Don't worry about it."

There was something unspoken there, something, Buddy saw, in the shift of Artichoke's gaze that made him aware Artichoke wasn't being completely straight with him. Darnell still hadn't called or messaged, and Buddy still didn't have the courage to do so himself.

"Is Muncie...with Darnell?"

"I honestly do not know. I am not...central...to whatever is going on in Fetzervalve's head."

Buddy took a breath. "Do you think…"

"You want an opinion about what goes on in Fetzervalve's head? Ask the dude he spends the _rest_ of his time with. _I_ am driving you to school." With that, Artichoke apparently decided the time for talking was over, as he punched the radio, the beats of Pain Diamond spilling out to fill the van.

It wasn't the most cheerful music to ponder the dissolution of the most important relationship in Buddy's life to; he would have preferred Bloodied Lesbos, but this was a Pain Diamond day, apparently.

Artichoke had a point, though. Darnell wasn't talking to Buddy, but he was talking to _somebody_ , and the chances of that somebody including Gregg were high.

But finding Gregg - finding _either_ of them - was harder than Buddy had expected. Getting anyone to talk to Buddy was difficult; everyone knew he'd been selected, and either through pity, or some widespread conspiracy, no one seemed willing to talk about it with him. By the end of the day, with his thirty-second conversation with Artichoke the longest interaction he'd had with anyone all day, Buddy was desperate for _anyone_ to talk to.

He skipped last period algebra to sulk in the cafeteria, head flat on the surface of the table. After about five minutes, though, someone prodded his leg. Buddy looked up, glowering when he saw the janitor standing above him. It was a...familiar face, blue, feathery, at the undefined age where his goatee was greying but not yet looking _old_.

The janitor poked Buddy again with his mop. “Gotta clean up in here, kid.”

"I am too sad to move," Buddy retorted.

The janitor sighed and sat next to Buddy. "Look, kid, when you're a teenager, all of this shit - school, girls-"

"Boys," Buddy retorted.

"Boys," the janitor amended, "parents, all that. It seems like a lot because you're young and haven't been through a lot of this shit."

"I was elected student body president yesterday," Buddy mumbled into the table. "So I've got...twenty-nine days until I don't have a best friend anymore."

"Ah." The janitor patted Buddy's shoulder awkwardly. "That's a bit of...wouldn't help saying you'll make other friends, I bet."

"No. Having other friends is _fine_ , I just want Darnell _too_." Buddy kicked the leg of the table, glad to have an audience to vent at. "Why does the president not get to have a best friend anyway?"

"That's a long story." When the janitor didn't continue, Buddy turned his head sideways, finding the janitor watching him placidly, but not, it seemed, inclined to continue.

"Are you going to _tell_ me that story?"

The janitor shrugged. "Don't know it. _Everything's_ a long story, at the end of the day. Knowing the story...helps, sometimes. Sometimes it makes it worse."

"Was that supposed to make me feel better? Because I kind of feel confused."

"My job isn't to make you feel better. It's to clean the cafeteria. And fix the boiler. And on that note…"

"I understand perfectly. Do not let me keep you from your job."

"Yeah, that's not happening until you get out of here."

Abandoned by his friends, kicked out of the cafeteria, Buddy lay himself flat on the football field and stared at the clouds. He wanted the story of the curse. He wanted someone to talk to, not just a janitor he was keeping from doing his job. He wanted to wring every last moment of happiness he could out of Darnell's friendship before it was over.

He didn't want to lose.

Rather than wait to see if Muncie, or anyone else, was going to take him home, Buddy followed the crowds to his bus. Because his week kept getting worse, instead of getting to sulk alone on an empty bench, Buddy found _one_ seat. It was next to a brown bear, a thickset guy who didn't look away from the window when Buddy sat next to him. Surrounded by the chatter of other students, the silence wasn't exactly silent. But pent up, ignored by his best friend, abandoned by everyone else, Buddy longed to talk to anyone. And since Buddy had no way to get to the arcade, where Handsome Joe would listen to anyone willing to play Polybius for him, his seatmate would have to do.

"I am beginning to regret getting into politics," Buddy announced.

The bear looked around at Buddy, eyes shielded by his large, round glasses, possibly the most uncool piece of headwear Buddy had ever seen. "I'm sorry?"

"Buddy Thunderstruck. Student body president." Buddy held out a hand.

"Angus Delaney. Confused."

"Damn. I already know an Angus - Scattergood, you know. I got him out of a deal with the Devil."

"What." It was hard to read Angus' expression; he either had no emotions or was good at keeping them bottled up.

"Me and my best bro Darnell-" Buddy's chest clenched, painful. "Fart nugget; sorry, I did not mean to bother you, I just-"

"You're Buddy Thunderstruck." Buddy got the feeling Angus was examining him, though it was still hard to see through the glasses. "Everyone thinks you're cursed."

"Everyone _knows_ I am cursed. Every student body president in the last forty years has lost their best friend within a month of inauguration. One of them even got _stabbed_."

Angus huffed, leaned back against the seat. "There's no such thing as curses, or magic."

Buddy had met adults who had convinced themselves the weirdness of Greasepit was just what rural small-town life was like, but never anyone under the age of 18. "Did you miss the day a sea witch stole all our voices? Or when The Amazing Amazo turned the senior class into squirrels?"

Angus shrugged. "I'm...out of school a lot." He set his shoulders and looked up at Buddy. "And whatever you're talking about sounds fake. We're _teenagers_ ; teenagers are stupid and emotional and most high school friendships don't last. If your friend leaves you, you shouldn't blame some external force. You just have to accept it's over because you messed up."

"I don't think...I messed up."

"Sometimes...you've got to accept you messed up somewhere, even if you don't know how."

"That is the _worst_ thing I have ever heard. If something bad happens and you cannot figure out what you did, it is probably the fault of an evil witch, or an irresponsible god, or some terrible person who isn't you. And the right way to deal with _that_ is find whoever's responsible and-"

Buddy paused when he actually saw Angus, who'd pulled back against the window. He wasn't...visibly frightened, but he looked smaller.

"And I am freaking you out, which is not appropriate for an elected official." Buddy raised his hands, pulling them back, though it didn't have much effect on the tension in Angus' form.

After a moment, however, Angus pushed up at his glasses, sat up a little straighter. "I don't remember voting for you."

"I think the class presidents consult an oracle."

"A ora - I still can't tell if you're fucking with me," Angus replied, uneasy, but no longer backed away from Buddy.

"It does not matter. What matters is that you are my constituent, and a young man should not live in fear of his elected representatives."

Angus huffed; it was almost a laugh. "You're a good dude, Buddy." The bus slowed to a stop, and Angus pushed at Buddy. "Come on, this is my stop." He stood as Buddy gave him space, reached out, but pulled his hand back before he could make contact. "I don't think...it's likely you're going to screw up." And then he was gone, leaving Buddy alone, again. He decided to mimic Angus and stare out the window, finding it less therapeutic than he'd hoped.

At home, he considered his options. He could try to call Darnell in the hopes his best friend was not too engrossed in whatever project Buddy's predicament had inspired in him. He could try to find someone - anyone - else who might want to talk to him.

Or he could find out the story of the curse of Labrea High's student body president.

The internet proved almost helpful. People didn't talk about the weirdness of Greasepit online; Muncie had suggested the Greasepit Chamber of Commerce was behind it, in order to keep would-be residents from being scared away. The Greasepit Historical Society, however, had plenty to say on the parts of Greasepit's history that _didn't_ involve the supernatural.

And what it had to say was…

Buddy needed someone to talk to about this, but Muncie was part of the 'not taking Buddy's calls' club, Auntie Uncle nowhere to be found, and that meant Buddy had to deal with this revelation on his own.

Because the student body president had been part of Greasepit since the beginning - a position created to give the children of Greasepit a voice in the town’s affairs. Until forty years ago, it was an elected position, chosen every year by the children of Greasepit.

Until Belvedere Moneybags, a charismatic eleven-year-old, won the position and used his popularity, and the powers granted to the student body president, to seize control of Greasepit, ruling with the tightest iron fist an eleven-year-old could manage.

Which had apparently included complete control over the newspaper, because the historical society's records were pieced together from journals, letters, and an underground broadsheet put together by Really Old Woman.

Moneybags had been on the cusp of changing the town charter so his position was for his life, when…

He hadn't. Ousted at the end of his term, he'd vanished into obscurity until taking the position of high school principal. No one under the age of 14 was allowed to take the position again, and every subsequent student body president had been betrayed by their best friend within a month of inauguration.

Without the aid of Darnell or Muncie or _anyone else_ , Buddy had to investigate on his own. And while not nearly as exhausting as reading a demonic contract for loopholes, the historical society website was slow, and wasn't set up to answer the question of how Belvedere Moneybags had been deposed.

Except…

There was a bird standing just behind Moneybags in every picture, black-framed glasses over their eyes. 

Ever since Moneybags, the student body president had been chosen on the Ides of March; it therefore didn't seem far-fetched to think Moneybags had been betrayed. An old yearbook identified the bird as Katherine Warbler, whom the internet identified as the pastor of the Church of the First Coalescence.

It being late, Buddy was clearly not going anywhere. But he resolved to get out to the church tomorrow and see if he could wrangle some answers out of Pastor Kate.

Because the next day no one was talking to him _still_. It was worse, because Buddy kept seeing his friends talking earnestly with small groups of students, conversations that quieted when they saw him looking.

Buddy _still_ couldn’t catch up with Muncie, a ridiculous problem to have with someone he lived with.

But _Gregg_ was waiting outside Buddy’s algebra class, grabbed Buddy’s arm, and tugged him toward the exit as the final bell rang, dismissing the student body for the day.

Buddy tried to pull out of Gregg’s grip, but the dude had a tight hold, barely noticing Buddy’s efforts.

“What the hell, dude?”

“We never hang out,” Gregg explained, pulling Buddy through the rear exit to the school. “So we are hanging.” He stopped next to a scuffed green dirtbike, turning to grin at Buddy. “Cool, right?”

A year and a half ago, the thought of riding behind Gregg Lee on his bike would have left Buddy elated. But fear of retribution from the events of the Winter Formal had cooled his attraction, and regardless, Gregg was strictly off limits.

The circumstances left little energy for thinking about boys, anyway.

“Where are we going?”

“You are buying me pizza,” Gregg said by way of explanation, which could mean Pastabilities, the Empty Bucket, or the god-awful diner at the edge of town.

He didn’t try talking while Gregg drove, a little more fearful of distracting the driver than he was in a car. So he had nothing but time to think as he stared at the back of Gregg’s head. Obviously this outing was meant to keep Buddy busy while Darnell got up to...whatever, the distraction chosen for the relatively low chance of giving Darnell up.

The whole thing made his palms itch, a restless anxiety he didn’t know how to dispel except possibly by getting into a fight.

Unfortunately, he doubted beating up Darnell’s boyfriend would reduce the chances of Buddy losing his affections forever.

Of course, if Darnell was planning to abandon Buddy anyway…

At the diner, whose pizza tasted like wood chips, Gregg gave Buddy a too-wide grin.

“Sooo…”

“So...what?”

Gregg shrugged. “Come on, you’ve always got shit to say. Or at least Dar never shuts up about what you get up to.”

Casey had said something similar to that once, but it still felt a little embarrassing to hear; Buddy wasn’t sure he was _worth_ that sort of...adoration?

“It is pretty clear he thinks you’re great, too.”

Gregg snorted. “He doesn’t and I’m not.” He shoved an entire slice of pizza into his mouth at once, scowling as he chewed.

It gave Buddy a moment to think how to respond to that. Darnell’s mother wasn’t shy sharing her feelings about _Buddy_ , who’d never been publicly blamed for arson and whose best friend hadn’t beaten another kid senseless during a softball game. So it was likely Dr. Fetzervalve had weighed in on the subject of Gregg.

Still…

“Darnell likes you a lot-“

“He thinks I’m cute. That’ll only get you so far when you’re stupid delinquent...parking lot trash.”

Buddy was not prepared for this. He cast about for something, anything he could say. “Darnell would not be dating you if he thought you were trash. He says…” Buddy felt his cheeks heat. “You treat him really good.”

Gregg barked out a laugh. “Not something to be impressed by, given how low his first girlfriend set the bar.”

"Dude, are you...okay?”

Gregg dropped his head onto the table and groaned. “I’m fine. Just...not as good a day as I thought it’d be.”

“We do not have to talk about it if it upsets you.”

“Yeah, but who else am I gonna talk about this shit to? Mae’s great but she has her own shit to deal with. Don’t need Dar knowing how much of a fucking mess I really am.” Gregg pushed himself back up and took a vicious bite of another slice of pizza. “He’s smart, has a future outside of this stupid town. So yeah, as cool as he is…” Gregg shrugged, apparently casually, but his whole frame was tense.

Buddy reached out, paused before he could give Gregg a reassuring pat. Gregg wasn’t Darnell; Buddy didn’t know what contact he’d tolerate. “Dude - Darnell likes you a lot. I do not think you could - that you _would_ do anything to change that.”

Gregg, yes, sniffled, wiped at his nose. “You seem pretty sure of your bro. You’d think he wasn’t destined to stab you in the back.”

Buddy tried to take a deep breath, found his breath shallow. “Do you know what Darnell is up to?”

“I lost interest halfway through the explanation,” Gregg demurred.

Buddy bit back a growl. “Fine. Then you can take me somewhere in exchange for buying me pizza.”

Gregg shrugged and stood, following Buddy to the cash register. “Like are we talking middle of the woods, the mall-“

“We are going to church.”

Gregg was quiet the whole ride over, subdued, and Buddy wondered what Gregg thought was going through Buddy’s head. He didn’t know if Gregg was religious; Buddy certainly wasn’t. But Buddy needed answers, and Pastor Kate seemed like the best source.

Gregg froze a moment after they stepped into the church, staring past Buddy at the receptionist, a middle aged black cat, portly, wide-eyed, looking remarkably like…

“Gregg! It’s good to see you!”

“Hey, Mrs. Borowski.”

Mae’s mom smiled at Gregg before turning the smile on Buddy. “And you must be…”

“Buddy, Mrs. Borowski. Darnell’s friend?”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I asked Gregg to drive me here,” Buddy blurted. “I wanted to talk to Pastor Kate.”

Mrs. Borowski’s smile softened. She stepped out from behind the desk, and put a gentle hand on Buddy’s shoulder.

“Well, it was very kind of you to do that, Gregg. Do you want him to come with you or-“

“I think I need to do this alone.”

“Of course. You can hold down the fort for a few minutes without blaspheming, right, Gregg?”

"Sure, Mrs. Borowski."

Mrs. Borowski smiled and escorted Buddy along to a small, neat office, decorated in warm reds and a heavy oak desk. A blue bird, eyes hidden behind heavy rimmed glasses, sat behind the desk, looking up at the two of them as they stepped in.

"Candy. And who is this?"

"Buddy Thunderstruck. Um. Ma'am. Pastor Kate?” Buddy held out a hand. "I sort of wanted to talk to you?"

She smiled and waved Mrs. Borowski away. “Well, that is one of my jobs. What do you want to talk about?”

Buddy waited until Mrs. Borowski closed the door, and took a deep breath to steady himself. “Belvedere Moneybags.”

“Oh.” There was a sudden tension to Pastor Kate’s shoulders. “I meant I’m here to talk about problems or questions _you_ might have.”

“But it _is_ my problem! I got elected student body president and that means I will be short a best friend by Tax Day! And I looked up the whole student body president curse and you were Principal Moneybags’ friend and I have to know what happened so I don’t. Lose Darnell.”

Panting, heart racing, Buddy dropped into one of the chairs set next to Pastor Kate’s desk. His eyes were prickling with the first hint of tears, but he didn’t bother wiping at them; he’d still be crying.

“Buddy. I don’t know what to say. I’ve heard about this curse, but I don’t-“

“Forty years,” Buddy growled. “Every student body president in forty years has lost their best friend in a month. So please, just tell me...how did Principal Moneybags lose his position?”

He heard a sigh; he didn’t look up, because crying in front of strangers made him feel worse than the crying did.

“I wish I could be more help. We were kids, Buddy, and Belvedere had big ideas. I believed in him, and when it became clear he wasn’t who we thought he was, that he had _plans_...we were all frightened of him. He had the power to impeach and indict public officials. He used the threat of that to extort the police into doing his bidding. The mayor, too. He was going to change the town charter so he’d never have to give up power.

“When I realized what he was doing, I cried for three hours. I was just a kid - what could I do?”

“You did something.”

“Yes. I prayed.”

“What?” Buddy jerked his head up and examined Pastor Kate’s face for some sign she was joking, but her expression was placid. “I did not come here to be converted.”

Pastor Kate spread her hands. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buddy. Lost, frightened, and out of ideas, I prayed that someone, something would keep him from succeeding. And the next morning...his support collapsed. No one was afraid of him anymore. And a week passed, and his term ended, and that was the end of it.”

“Except it wasn’t.”

“Except it wasn’t,” Pastor Kate agreed. “Buddy, I know it’s frightening to find yourself in a situation beyond your control. If there is anything that brings you comfort, this is the time to embrace it.”

Buddy huffed, suddenly feeling the weight of the last several days. “Thank you for telling me,” he said, because he wasn’t a savage, and trailed outside, where Gregg and Mrs. Borowski were playing tic-tac-toe.

Gregg waved when he saw Buddy. “You have a good talk?”

Buddy shrugged. “I had a talk. Would you mind taking me home?”

“Hey, sure. See you around, Mrs. Borowski.”

The ride to Buddy’s house was quiet, Gregg unwilling to press at what Buddy had talked to Pastor Kate about, and Buddy not in the mood to share. Because it seemed like prayer _was_ his only option, and he hadn't had a lot of luck with that in the past.

And yet, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom later, Buddy was honestly considering it. What was the worst that could happen?

Well, the _worst_ that could happen would be a hostile entity latching onto Buddy's prayers and turning his life into a living nightmare. But that almost never happened.

And anyway, if the other choice was living without Darnell, Buddy would take his chances.

So Buddy say up in bed, pressed his hands together, and tried...reaching out. He didn't feel anything special, no watching presence, but whispered, quiet, "Hey. Um. This is Buddy. Thunderstruck. You may know me. I hope you do, because then you would know how awesome I am and how much I do not deserve having my best friend taken from me. Because that is why I am talking to you. Darnell is my best friend, and I do not want to lose him. So if there is something you can do...please. Do it. I would be forever grateful."

He waited several minutes, hoping for an acknowledgement, or a sign, or something, but nothing came, leaving Buddy with nothing to do but fall asleep, staring at the ceiling, with a cold feeling of dread in his stomach.

He woke next morning still feeling terrible, much like the morning of the fifteenth. Muncie was at breakfast, watching him with wide, sad eyes. Unwilling to stomach seeing that on the way to school, Buddy took the bus, resolutely ignoring the stares from the other students. He tried to ignore it when he stepped off the bus and saw knots of students hurriedly looking away from him.

It was more than the stares he'd gotten in the last few days. It felt like they were...expecting something.

Buddy hurried into the school, trying to calm his racing heartbeat, but then heard Darnell's voice rising above the general hubbub, and felt a spike in anxiety, a painful clench in his chest. He _wanted_ to see Darnell again, but he was certain if he did, it would be it. Done.

"Buddy Thunderstruck!" 

Buddy snapped his head up at Darnell's shout to see Darnell, flanked by the other class presidents, trailed by Principal Moneybags, striding toward him. Darnell had a thick stack of papers in one hand, and looked...serious, eyes fixed on Buddy as he approached. As Darnell drew close, Buddy could see he looked...slightly bruised, and was limping.

"Darnell, please don't-"

"It's over, Buddy." Darnell gave Buddy a smirk, held up the papers, and shoved them into his chest.

"Darnell?"

"You're _done_." Darnell glanced back at the other class presidents.

"Yes. After collecting the signatures of over two-thirds the student body-"

"Including over half the members of each individual class-"

"The consent of the oldest living resident of Greasepit-"

"And defeating the Statue of Limitations in single combat-"

"The student body government is dissolved, and you are no longer its president." Principal Moneybags leaned down to Buddy's level, a wide smirk on his face. "You are henceforth relieved of all of the rights and responsibilities associated with that position."

"I…" Buddy glanced between Darnell and Principal Moneybags, trying to form a coherent thought, but it wouldn't come. "What's going on?"

"Mr. Fetzervalve has spent several days _removing_ you from your position," Principal Moneybags said archly. "A cowardly betrayal that once lost me one of _my_ best friends. Now, if we're quite done here, we have to get started rebuilding a student government _not_ built on one child with unfettered political power."

Principal Moneybags, swept about, stalking away, leaving the class presidents to hurry after him. Buddy stared after them, still trying to make some sense of what was going on.

"Buddy. Are you mad?"

"Mad?" Buddy finally looked at Darnell, who was a few steps away, tail actually tucked between his legs. "I have no idea what just happened."

"I was going to betray you, Buddy. There was nothing I could do about it. But I thought...if I betrayed you the right way, it wouldn't count. Because the curse only affects the student body president - if you weren't the president anymore, it wouldn't matter."

"You could have told me. I spent the last few days...sort of miserable, Darnel. I thought you decided to stop being my friend-"

Darnell latched his arms around Buddy, leaning his head against Buddy's chest. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Of _course_ I'm not going to stop being your friend." Buddy couldn't quite...wrap his head around this, except that Darnell was warm against him, and Buddy was not giving him a proper hug in response. So Buddy wrapped his arms back around Darnell, feeling the other boy relax into the grip.

"I couldn't tell you; if we were working _together_ , I might have screwed things up for _real_. But I'm sorry you had to feel like shit."

"Do not worry, Darnell. You're _here_. And that means everything is okay."

\---

At the end of the day, Principal Moneybags returned to his office, locking the door behind him. Once certain he wouldn't be disturbed, he bent underneath the desk to retrieve several books from the safe underneath it. One of them, _Greasepit Town Charter_ , he opened and set on his desk. He scanned the text for several minutes until he found a particular passage.

" _The child selectman shall have the power to indict any public official and stand over their trial, to sentence any who are subsequently found guilty of any violation of law, or trespass against rules of common decency or decorum_."

Taking a thick pen, Principal Moneybags blacked out the passage.

And then, leaning back in his chair, he smiled to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> YABG UQW WTPQNUU IGT BGLB TYG VXD


End file.
